Literature and Masterpieces
by shutupmidnight
Summary: Denmark begins to question why they all continue on as they had centuries before, and Netherlands entertains a sudden compulsion to doodle all over the Dane's arms in the meantime. (chapter 2 will be found on my ao3 account "contort" under the same title, and it will only be continued there) NedDen, will be nsfw at some stage, etc. (RESPOST)


Hey guys! So you can find chapter 2 on my AO3 account _**"contort"**_  
I would adore comments, suggestions on it! Do you like it? Do you hate it? Should I continue?  
Hope to see you guys there! It's certainly been a while don't you think haha.

 _ **edit: I AM SO SORRY I DIDNT REALISE THE FORMATTING HAD FUCKED UP, THIS IS A REPOST I AM SO SORRY.**_  
Much love and kind regards,  
Hebah. 

* * *

Mathias had abandoned his room in favour of visiting Lars in the early hours of the morning. He had enough issues sleeping as it was, and on top of it, Madrid was awfully hot in the middle of summer and he was quickly learning the nights were no exception. Whoever had the bright idea to locate a meeting in Spain during this time of year really needed to rethink their decisions in life, he hoped they were suffering just as much as he was.

He knew Lars wouldn't be asleep. In this country of all countries he definitely wouldn't be resting too well for the days they were required to be there. As Mathias had passed through the halls in just a singlet and pair of boxers, he passed several other nations in similar states; all of them simply wandering the halls for one reason or another. A few raised an eyebrow at the way he looked without his hair in it's usual style, the locks flaccid and dripping past his eyes. He pushed his fringe out of his vision and shuffled past the present countries as if he didn't notice their mild surprise. Sweat beaded on the nape of his neck and dampened the ends of his hair, not even air con could save him now.

Mathias had let himself in when he found the door unlocked and Lars didn't seem all too bothered by his sudden appearance. The room reeked of contraband and serene laughter was placed on the Dane's tongue; as the sweet redolence carried on the breeze that welcomed him from the open window. After a few minutes Mathias had made himself at home on that windowsill to obtain what relief the wind could give his over heated skin; alongside his Dutch companion and an ashtray.

"Say, what do you think everybody is really like?" Mathias murmured down at the dirty blonde…. or light brunette… he wasn't too sure; who was immersed in drawing renditions of fragmented Van Gogh works up and down the length of his arm.

"What are you talking about Mathias." Lars didn't look up from his masterpiece, and no flash of green was caught in the moon's fingers through the curtain of limp hair. The Dutchman exchanged one copic marker for another and claimed another patch of skin, petals climbing over the subtle knob of bone in the Dane's wrist. "Everybody is exactly the same as they've always been."

The Dane chuckled quietly to himself. His temple kissed the window frame as he turned his stare back out to the carefully tended scenery and it stared back relentlessly. "You know that's not true."

"It's easier to pretend as if we know no different, you were enough of a surprise, I don't think I can deal with more." Mathias laughed again at his companion's statement, his free hand plucking the remnants of a half consumed spliff from the ashtray and a lighter to revive it's blackened end. Lars kept working under what dull light the night offered, his lips puckering expectantly for the end of the joint. "Who knew Mr Denmark would be so fucking cogitative at this time of the morning."

"Heh. The one and the only." Bitten down nails caught on the skin of thinner lips as the silent request was fulfilled. Somewhere in the hotel room, Lars' phone alarm cut through the tranquility strung between them. Mathias sighed and waited until the other had pulled back from his attentive care to slip down from the windowsill. "Another meeting huh."

"Yeah, another meeting."

"I'll see you in a couple of hours, Nederland."

"You too Danmark, tell Norge I say hi."

xxx

"Tino said he saw you walking around last night." Mathias looked over the lip of his coffee at the Norwegian sitting across from him. Lukas didn't look up from the newspaper between his hands, his own cup sitting a few centimetres away from his mouth.

"Ah sorry Lukas, I needed a bit of air." The outline of 'Vase with Pink Roses' teased the bones of his wrist and threatened to spill from under the lips of his shirt cuff. He knocked back the rest of his drink and adjusted his cufflinks. The flirtatious promise that followed the aftertaste of Frangelico in his coffee was welcomed considering the hours he had ahead of him. The liqueur was obtainable due to the elder Italian brother insisting it was available in the hotel. Naturally Spain had agreed. "We should get going yeah!?"

"Drop it Mathias."

His smile didn't melt away at the comment and Lukas looked almost exasperated by the Dane's steady resolve.  
They were better friends than they'd ever been lovers.

xxx

Denmark chewed on the end of his pen, criticising his peers from under his lashes. He quietly observed the room, rather than paid attention to half the shit claiming the air in various languages and thickly layered accents. Be it gloating or idiotic statements from the junior nations, statements that had once been somewhat endearing but were now just irritating after the previous dozen times. He didn't know why he was there, or even why half of the countries were to begin with. He also didn't know why they kept up with the pretences of these things. It was obvious after not even 10 minutes that they couldn't stand one another in such small quarters. The benevolent notions were played through, the typical pleasantries were polite and predictable, after that it was mind numbing topic after mind numbing topic until somebody's patience snapped and a fight broke out amongst a select few.

The Dane flashed a smile around his biro at Netherlands once he'd caught his attention, the man had long since succumbed to doodling in the margin of his notes. The other male quirked a brow at him, a small smile playing on the fringes of his eyes before it was replaced with that expected indifference and he returned to the conversation at hand.

"I don't see why you guys won't give weapons to Ukraine, no hard feelings Russia, but honestly-"

There was a collective groan of frustration as America opened his fucking mouth to share his opinion on a matter he yet again knew nothing about. A series of heads fell into hands whereas others just clenched their jaws out of pure irritation. The entirety of Europe looked like they were either going to projectile vomit acid onto his stupid suit or try to outright kill him. Denmark would high five whoever broke through their restraint first.

Anyway.

Each and every single one of the nations all had theses pseudo and well preserved personalities, behaviours and quirks. Small things that created variation amongst their kind. Some of those things were genuine, the majority were not. But for them to make those things a part of their apparent 'defaulted personas', created a false sense of security for the people around them; for their peers, for their bosses, for their people. It gave humans a power trip to think of themselves equal with the nations, to think that they understood who, or rather, what they were dealing with. They liked to think of the nations as domesticated animals they could control, their own soldiers who were perdurable against time and the mercy of death, the personal weapons tucked up their sleeves. And they went along with it, patiently waiting for their careless treatment from those greedy hands and greedy mouths. They were expected to be pliable, to accept what came their way, to act the way people imagined them to.

Periorbital dark circles hung under the eyes of those who were starting to feel the exhaustion of keeping up with those little facades after centuries of maintaining them. The thin layer of skin below their desolate stares exposed the cortisol engorged blood vessels. The tubular structures were clearly swollen with a wealth of rich pigment and contained promises of ruptured stories, of stories in the form of liquified violets, of a method to obtain new levels of exhaustion. Embers of bitterness burned cavities in the effected nation's throats and they were all the ones who desperately tried to fill the apertures with nicotine, alcohol, anything to keep themselves in check.

There were certain habits they all possessed, there were violent natures and something akin to god complexes that boiled under their skin. In some ways it was rightful for those behaviours and finer, less desirable, details to exist. God knew they were superior and they all knew it too, some denied it, other accepted it and carried on as if it were just a label and nothing more. Nobody actually spoke of such a taboo subject. However, everybody was well aware of the way the mutual knowledge of their actualities plagued the walls of their skulls, it was something that existed with the same consistency as mucus.

Contrary to popular belief, Denmark saw more than people thought.  
He had simply decided long before people could realise the extend of what he did comprehend, that it did absolutely nothing for him to show it. His crooked and charming smile was the equivalent Norway's poker face. But behind those metaphorical and previously mentioned closed doors, that grin shattered at his feet, rolled and crunched under his toes. And then he'd wind up staring into the bottom of a whiskey glass and questioning why the fuck he kept trying for these people.

Hickies lined Russia's Adam's apple, the man made no move to hide himself even once he finally noticed the Dane staring. His smile was exhausted and it was returned. Yeah, he understood that felling all too well. He made a mental note to catch the taller male at some point, just to talk about the mouth behind the blemishes on his throat. A mouth of which had officially gone missing from his brother's basement 6 months prior. A mouth that he missed killing time with, around the rim of a beer bottle.

Ah good ole Pru, hopefully you finally found some purpose you obsolete little fuck.

He allowed his nonchalant stare to rest on his company from hours before, the Dutchman not noticing for sometime before he appeared to come out of some kind of daze and stared back in confusion. Denmark bit back his smile and quickly gestured for the man to join him for a cigarette, two fingers held subtly to his mouth, lips puckered. He received a quick nod and something like relief crossed the Netherlander's face.

"Norge I need to take a piss, this really isn't going anywhere."

"Ah what a shame, it was just about to get interesting." The smaller male didn't look up at him as he stood up.

"Don't miss me too much."

xxx

The weightless cadavers of burnt tobacco were captured in Madrid's humid grips, until the tendrils of smoke thinned out into nothing. The pair were lucky for the faint breeze in the air, however the air conditioning from inside was quickly missed as they tried to soothe their nerves with identical methods of utilising miscellaneous mediums.

"Russia's not holding up too well." A cigarette butt flirted with the Dane's lips and the flame of his lighter attempted seduced the opposing end to reignite after a failed first attempt. "I haven't seen him look this shit in years."

"I was thinking the same thing." Lars shook his head and lit the blonde's cigarette for him when his lighter refused to produce any more flame, the Netherlander's particular brand of inclination already poised and burning away. "We should invite him up next time, kid needs a break."

"Everybody would notice if the big guy slipped out."

"I think they'd just be relieved that he left."

The Dane laughed and rested his head against the railing. The roof was so much more quiet, desolate compared to the proceedings below their feet. He pulled his suit jacket closer to his shoulders and pressed his forehead against the railing. The wind caressed his cheeks and wormed under the folds of his clothes as if to flirt with what warmth remained under the expensive layers.

"How expensive even was that?" Lars said after a while as the Dane carelessly swiped off ash that had clung to the material.

"Couple of thousand, or something." Lars choked on Mathias' reply. "Calm down, it's not all that much." The Dane's lips curled into a serpentine smile and his eyes still directed down to the streets below them. "You weren't complaining about where money went the last time we fucked Mr Netherlands, if I recall correctly, you didn't even care what bodily fluids got on half a million."

"That was different." Came the mumbled reply.

Casual sex. Drunk sex. Another one of the numerous 'one night stands'.

"Don't worry Lars, I promise not to tell anybody."

Mathias could feel that the Netherlander was still staring at him. He stayed as he was, watching the miniature version of the world continue on, at the floor of the drop below him. Cigarette smoke fell from his lips and his lids remained low as he observed with very little interest, humans briskly moving from one place to another with intent he couldn't even begin to interpret. Strange creatures they all were. After some time he rolled his head against the metal to stare back at those pretty greens that were still glued to the side of his face, five minutes had passed since he realised the man had been transfixed on him for one reason or another. Green didn't meet blue, the direction of Lars' gaze rested just below the tip of his nose and he had to bite down on his tongue to resist smiling once it clicked.

"You can kiss me you know." Mathias murmured, he watched the levelled expression rupture into a rare form of sheepishness. It was quickly followed by something the Dane could describe as almost bashful, later came raw surprise. Heh. "You've been staring at my mouth for a while now, you don't have to ask, it's cool."

Lars was one of those men who spoke more with his eyes, than he did with words, or with exaggerated facial expressions. For Mathias that was no issue, he'd grown up around other's with a similar style of expression and found it too easy to decipher. Perhaps that was why the Netherlander and himself clicked so well, they didn't need words to communicate a lot of the time. But the Dane was graced with a rare moment with his abrupt forwardness, one where Lars' reaction leaked into the muscles of his face and shaped his expression into surprise and later something almost sheepish.

Mathias rolled his eyes, his tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth when the man didn't move. He took the initiative, his fingers curling around the ends of his scarf to pull him in, head angled ever so slightly to slide their noses against one another's and he hummed against the thin lips that were parted mid gasp. It wasn't anything deep and life changing, just a tender press of mouths. There was the playful addition of the Dane's tongue teasing the sweet aftertaste of the Netherlander's spliff, just to catch the residue before Mathias pulled back.

"I don't understand you."

Mathias returned to smoking as if nothing had happened and chuckled at the other's confusion.

"That's absolutely fine by me Ned."

xxx

There were couples that everybody always expected, and some maintained those relationships for the proclaimed conventionality of it all, but over the years a lot of them lost the spark that had once been there. However, some of them such as Germany and Italy were probably an exception, devotion and adoration for one another was potent from across the border and perhaps once upon a time Denmark had envied them, but then he just kind of let it slide. They all ended up doing that eventually. In comparison, the rest of them were a sad bunch. Most of their relationships simply came down to strings of quick fucks with whoever was interested, some had fixations with others, some had reputations that got exploited, some just generally didn't care anymore. There were relationships and arrangements that existed entirely outside of politics, outside of textbook history; and in the place of bloodied chronicles were potential bygones that were to be supported by the foundations of an exchange of bodily fluids between the sheets.

Just as France and England were supposed to be at each other's throats, everybody already knew what they got up to after a few drinks. Just as England would then crawl back to an ever so oblivious America and treat him like he was his entire world behind those closed doors they had all begun to covet. Just as Spain and Romano had been off and on, and off and on for decades for whatever reason. In one of those breaks Romano had said to hell with his morals and been the one sucking Prussia off willingly for a while. Just as Prussia was once upon a time expected to be proud of his brother in that extra special way of his, everybody had seen the swift decline from that mentality as his predicament sunk into his head further. Nobody really saw a hair of the albino anymore, and only a handful knew where he'd gone off to for the past few months. Nobody questioned Germany about it, nobody really cared all that much. He was no longer relevant in the game they all played.

He slumped in his seat, head rolling back momentarily against the back of his chair, eyes stuck to the ceiling. God was he tired. Fingers pressed against his knee under the table and he sat up, blank stare resting on the Swede beside him for a moment before he tried to focus on whatever the hell was being discussed.

Denmark wasn't doing much better with keeping to expectation. The incongruity between him and Sweden in it's own way was dangerously harmonious, unhealthy so, but still they worked around each other to give each what they wanted for an hour or so and then, that was that. Denmark would return to the comfort of his own home with the aftertaste of oxidation on his tongue and the lingering sensation from being bisected on that cock of his. He was also supposed to be hopeless and unconditionally in love with Norway, and yet he had taken to running through condoms just as Netherlands blew through weed in the past decade alone. Denmark was supposed to be a lot of things that he no longer was, and could no longer find the energy to even establish and sustain. The only thing that had been continued in their 'relationship' was the fact Denmark still smiled for him, still allowed his shadow to slither and whisper over the Norwegian's skin in the wake of his wandering hands. Still did what was expected to maintain the comfort, the security for others. It just wasn't as frequent as it used to be, the pretence was growing harder to play along with.

Just as Denmark's eyes wouldn't stop ghosting over the Dutchman sitting not too far from him and just as he smiled a little bit each time when he had caught the man's attention, there were some things he really was not and some things he was probably going to be.


End file.
